Where You End, I Begin
by brilliantmemories
Summary: Never once had they suspected a traitor under their own roof. But with one rude awakening, everything good the modern day Assassins have believed in has made a change for the ultimate worse. AU, eventual character deaths.
1. Prologue

**Where You End, I Begin**

* * *

**A/N: **Please don't shoot me. I love starting new stories then never finishing them. Haa, sorry. Though, I'm pretty darn sure this will get finished... It's... well, it's been stirring around in my head for a _long _time - so I had to write it. Enjoy! (:

Oh, and a side note - I haven't forgotten _No One Knows_ or anything else, I'm just doing each project very slowly. ^^;

* * *

**Prologue**

In all the years he had endured, Desmond had never felt the bitter twist of true betrayal.

A lie here and there – cheating, and manipulation, but he had never held himself open long enough for anyone to stab him in the back. Not _once_. Even back in the desert, he kept himself guarded, managing a wall that kept him away from the malign of those who tried to know him but failed. His family, mother and father, were the only people he had ever grown to trust. They had raised him, after all, and when you can't trust your own parents, you _know_ things have gotten bad.

Lucy Stillman was the first person he had met since he left the Assassin's farm that he could trust. Not fully – never fully, but there was a part of him that knew she would be on his side. In Abstergo, he felt as if he had been alone. Forsaken, but when he heard the cries of his brothers attempting to rescue him – he felt guilt. Something he hadn't felt in a long time. They were giving their lives up for one man, one who hadn't attempted to build bridges to connect with them. One that thought highly of himself - not as highly as Altair, he gave himself that - and never tried to know those who attempted to help him. He was independent – and he would be. For the rest of his cowering life.

But she had rescued him – against all odds, what he had presumed was a Templar, rescued him.

She had taken him away from the personal hell he thought he would rot in. Far away – someone safe, a stronghold. Running away together, he couldn't believe that he was finally free. Though, freedom for Desmond always came at a price. And it never lasted as long as he thought it would.

He met Rebecca Crane, a short, black haired petite woman who instantly struck him as a funky and unique individual. She ran the Animus 2.0, or as she liked to call it, "Baby". She had passion for what she did – motivation, something he had run short of after his third fake name. They seemed content, almost happy, with the sheltered lifestyle they lead. Or at least, Rebecca did. The way she hugged Lucy, a sweet reunion, proved to him that Lucy could be one to be trusted. He wanted to trust her, so badly, but it was hard. He was like a tiger, probed many times in its captive cell. It could never lick or eat from the hand that so cruelly punished it for no blatant reason.

Then there was Shaun Hastings – the sarcastic, cynical British man who never gave up the chance to throw an insult at Desmond. He juggled them like knives, each one more sharp than the last. The man never gave reasoning to why he had taken such an irrational disliking to the younger man, but Desmond automatically assumed it was because of his ranking. A novice, as many times as Shaun stated it, was not worthy of the aid from Lucy, who was regarded so much higher in the rankings. The whole Assassin thing was like a hierarchy, traced back all the way to the twelfth century. Who was their Master Assassin now?

With the four of them in hiding from the Templars, they knew they didn't have much time. Desmond slept only once over a period of three days. He was constantly in the Animus, always pulled out every few hours – much to Shaun's protest – to take a breather. In those breaks, Desmond found himself talking to Lucy, learning more about Rebecca or being ignored or affronted by the historian. It was a constant cycle that Desmond had grown accustomed to easily.

It had been too good to be true when Shaun said they could all retire to bed, that all the work was done for that day. Reluctantly, Desmond had gone to bed with goodnights to Lucy and Rebecca, a silent thank you to Shaun. Though he would never voice it – he didn't need Shaun rubbing it in his face the next day.

He slept well, better than he thought he would.

_It was all too good to be true._

Desmond woke the next morning to find himself staring up at the barrel of a gun.

"Good morning, cupcake." In all the years he had endured, Desmond had never felt the bitter twist of true betrayal.

Until now.


	2. The Bird Cage

**A/N: **Whew, this update is coming fast! I'm super excited to write this story because oh my gosh I have_ so much _inspiration for this story. It's kinda of... a twisted humor that's somewhat light hearted in an odd way. I kinda want to dig deeper into this story, though it will be somewhat short. Maybe under eight chapters? Hmm, not quite sure yet. Many thanks to Googleit6 who Beta'd it for me - and even reenactments with me had to be done to make this work. Trust me, a lot of work went into editing this piece of work I'm extremely proud of. Anyways, enjoy! (: **Leave a review, they always compel me to write faster!**

* * *

**Chapter One, The Bird Cage**

His stomach twisted and turned as if a rope had tightened dangerously around his neck – cutting off all air supply, his lungs gasping for the air he was desperately running out of.

But of course, he did not have a rope around his neck and he certainly wasn't physically lacking any oxygen. But he _was_ breathless at the fact that he woke to the sweet good morning of a shiny, silver gun.

"Shaun." It was the only word to come out of his already dry as a desert mouth. Slowly, his vision returned to him after his peaceful slumber. He had dreamed happily for once – it was even a true dream, not the Bleeding Effect or anything of the sorts that a test subject might have experienced. It was what any normal person could dream in a normal night. Desmond had dreamed that he was a bird – more precisely, an eagle – soaring high above New York as he flew freely, stopping whenever he felt like it. He had no one chasing him, no one watching his every move. In his dream, he was as free as a bird. Literally.

Suddenly, his dream had taken a turn for the worse. The eagle was now caged in a tight space, tossed into the bright blue ocean and left to die.

"Desmond," the British voice replied mockingly, and Desmond looked up to see his smug smile. This had to be a dream, or in more correct terms, a _nightmare_. This couldn't be real. Asphyxiated, he could feel himself being pulled further and further down into the deep murky waters, unable to see the surface light above him that he desperately tried to cling onto. "Sit up."

Moving at a slow pace, he tentatively brought his legs over the side of the bed, unable to tear his gaze away from the pistol in front of him. He felt his stomach lurch as he looked back up at the supposedly thought Assassin and Shaun smiled maliciously at him. Just as Desmond opened his mouth and attempted to speak, something hard struck him across the face. He instantly tasted the tangy copper of his own blood on the tip of his silenced tongue as his eyes were now suddenly looking down at the floor, knees and palms against the cold hardwood.

"Too slow, Desmond. Come on, if you want to keep your life a little longer, I suggest you pick up the pace."

He couldn't believe his own senses. That couldn't be blood he tasted. He couldn't be hearing the voice of Shaun Hastings. He couldn't be so close to the ground, as just moments ago, he was blissfully flying so high above it. No, it was impossible. Shaun Hastings was a good guy – he wasn't supposed to be alongside Vidic or those Templar bastards. Hell would freeze over before that happened. He looked back up at him, only to have the front of his shirt grabbed, then yanked up onto the bed by the muscle Desmond didn't think Shaun had. His hands were freezing cold. Hell must have been coated in a thick sheet of ice that morning.

"_How could you?"_ He could hear the fear in his own voice, as much as he tried to control it. Desmond only watched as Shaun began to laugh, a gun pointed at the middle of Desmond's forehead.

"It was all quite easy, though it did take me seven whole years to finally come to this single moment. Seven _whole_ years of-" Trying to catch him off guard, Desmond lashed out and grabbed Shaun's wrist to make him drop the gun. Attempting to twist it painfully for the release, he failed as the Templar grabbed his elbow, spun him around and pressed his face into the bed, twisting his arm around his back. Desmond grunted in pain as he felt Shaun pin him down, smothering the novice's face into the ruffled sheets as he held him in place. "Oh Desmond, did you just try to pull a fast one on me?" His laugh sent chills down Desmond's spine, just the way his simplest touch used to.

"That's not going to work against me," Shaun informed him, as Desmond's heart stopped momentarily while he felt the cold barrel of the gun against the back of his head.

"Huh. I'm surprised how easily you gave in. Coward," he sneered, lips tightening in a malignant smirk. "Are you perhaps too afraid to fight for the lives of Rebecca and Lucy?"

Desmond tensed as he snapped his head up, immediately searching for the women. Without missing a beat, his face was again forced roughly back into the sheets.

"Ah, ah, ah. Did I say you could take a look around?" Shaun was surprised when he didn't find the Assassin trembling beneath him. Desmond felt the gun being pressed harder against the back of his skull. "You have to ask like a good little boy, Desmond."

Desmond groaned, gasping in pain when Shaun abruptly jerked his arm the wrong way. It felt like it was on the verge of snapping in half like a toothpick. He knew it wouldn't take Shaun much more to completely fracture or dislocate something.

"Where are they?" He felt tears forming in his eyes as Shaun bent his arm a little further.

"Ask _nicer_, Desmond, dearest."

"Shaun... tell me where the fuck they- _Ah!_" They both heard a loud popping noise as Shaun finally let go of Desmond's dislocated shoulder. Smirking in self satisfaction, Shaun sat on the edge of the bed, still pointing the gun at Desmond. There was no was that he was going to drop his guard for even the faintest second, in assuming that Desmond would attempt to overthrow him.

"Hmm, I changed my mind. I'll just let you see them swimming in their own pools of blood," he laughed eerily, causing goose bumps to rise on the back of Desmond's neck as he pictured the both of the girls sprawled out on the floor, the walls painted with their inner organs and blood. The thought caused a cold sweat as he slowly sat up, watching the gun in his peripheral vision follow his every move.

"Don't you dare touch them, you miserable bastard!" Desmond shouted, bunching his fists. What good would a quick punch do against a bullet that would kill him before he even raised his arm?

"Oh, I won't be touching them. You see, while you were sleeping, I disabled all the security gates which meant _anyone_ could get in. Isn't it just a big co-inky dink that a team of Templars managed to get in and ambush Rebecca and Lucy in their sleep?" Shaun's agonizingly playful tone made Desmond want to scream.

"No!" Desmond growled, a steep hatred building for the killer in front of him. "You sick-"

"Oh shut up for one moment, Desmond," he cocked the gun with his other hand and Desmond's lips suddenly froze in place. "They're not dead yet."

"I can't believe you would – wait. What?" Desmond gritted his teeth, hissing as he felt a sudden spark of pain up his shoulder.

"They're not dead, Desmond. If my men followed my orders, both should still be very much alive," Shaun slipped off the bed, never taking his eyes off the Assassin in front of him. "Hey! Get your asses in here, _now!_" He shouted loudly, adjusting his crooked glasses with a free hand. Lying on his back upside down, head hanging over the edge of the bed, Desmond watched the hallway eagerly, the glass panes in front of him reflecting the break of dawn from the windows behind him.

"_Desmond!"_

"_Let go of me!"_

Desmond heard the two women shout, kick and scream as both of the Assassins were brought in. Sighing with relief, Desmond watched as both of them were shoved into the middle of the room, completely in one piece. Two well built Templars stood behind them and shoved them onto their knees, hands behind their heads. As he tried to get up, he once again felt the immense agony in his shoulder and even if he did make a movement towards them, Shaun would have shot him before he so much even lifted his first foot.

"Desmond!" Lucy cried out, tears streaming down her bright red cheeks. Rebecca's face was stone cold as she looked up at Shaun, sending all the negative vibes she could muster towards someone who she believed to have been a friend.

"Lucy, I'll save-" Once again, he was struck across the face with the cold, metal weapon. He tasted more blood leaking through his teeth as Shaun laughed like a hyena that had just cornered its prey.

"Are you sure you should go around making promises like that again, Desmond? After all, you did a pretty shitty job of protecting her the first time."

Blinded by rage, Desmond coiled back his fist and released it directly at Shaun's head. Before he could land a hit, Shaun grabbed his fist with his free hand and immediately, six other guns were pointed directly at Desmond.

"And I thought you were the strategically intelligent one. I guess you're becoming a bit too much like Ezio in the younger days, hm?"

"_I'll kill you!_" He shouted furiously, suddenly picking up his injured arm and tossing a pathetic punch which Shaun countered with ease. Before he knew it, Desmond felt Shaun's muscular leg sweep his own out from underneath him and he landed on the bed once again, on his back. All of a sudden, Shaun had shoved the gun in his back pocket and managed to pin Desmond down, trapping both his hands over his head and dug his knees sharply into Desmond's thighs, earning a cry of discomfort from the now trapped Assassin. Shaun's glasses began to slowly slip down the bridge of his nose as he stared directly into Desmond's eyes, amused at the fact what he met was _pure_ fear. Desmond could feel the Templar henchmen staring at them, exchanging puzzled looks with each other, but not dare to lower their guard against the women. If they lost to them – they knew what fate laid for them beyond the doors of the stronghold.

"Come on Desmond. Try to kill me now," he laughed. "Where's all that strength you earned from your ancestors? Come on, Desmond. Put up a good fight," Shaun chided, each insult digging further into Desmond's already bruised skin.

Lucy watched as the snake pinned down the eagle, waiting for the right minute to strike with its fatal, venomous bite. The fight seemed to have drained out of the eagle.

The Templar sighed heavily. "Oh dear. The candle on your cupcake has been blown out, Desmond. This party's over."

* * *

**A/N:** *puts on black sunglasses* _YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!_


	3. Cold Blooded Killer

**A/N:** Wheee! This is going a lot better than I thought it would. Faster too. At this rate it'll only end up being six or so chapters. Anyways, _many thanks_ to the reviewers! You guys always keep me happily writing the continuations.

So just a quick warning, there's slash in this -_** although**_, I wouldn't exactly... Call it slash. More just like someone screwing with someone else's head so they can use the situation to their advantage. None of that lovey dovey crap - although I do quite like that crap - here in this story.

* * *

**Chapter Two, Cold Blooded Killer  
**

The fight had been drained out of him the minute he met Shaun's eyes after his cruel awakening.

"Well? What the bloody hell are you waiting for?" If Desmond dared to buck the historian off, he knew within a moment, a bullet would be lodged somewhere in his frontal lobe. "You know Desmond, I always thought you were a bit of an idiot. I thought, hm, this man is going to be easy to take. I couldn't believe you escaped from Abstergo, really though! But then again..." He took in a deep breath and grinned. "We did let Lucy and you escape. It's not like you killed any of our men – just gave a few concussions and broken limbs here and there. You, my dearest Desmond, broke Jack's nose," he gestured towards a rather beefy man who raised his empty hand in a small wave, lips and eyebrows turned down. Desmond swallowed heavy and looked back at Shaun, who was still managing to pin him down to the bed.

"I don't think he appreciates that too much. What do you think?" Shaun asked softly. Desmond would have preferred to keep his mouth shut. "Well?" There was no way he was going to open his mouth. He had to think his thoughts over precisely and carefully or else-

"_Answer me!_" Shaun shouted, striking him across the face with the handle of the gun again. Instantly, Desmond tasted another splash of blood in his mouth. He was becoming accustomed to it – as if it were his new saliva. He took in a shaky breath before he answered.

"No..."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you. Speak up, Desmond."

"No."

"Desmond, he's on the other side of the room. I don't think he can hear you."

"_No!"_

Shaun laughed coldly, causing Desmond to flinch as he shivered violently. There was only so much he could do in his position without getting anyone killed. He feared if he made another move for Shaun, he'd end up dead before he could save the girls. If he talked, he might also have received the same fate as fighting. As much as he hated to admit it, he was helpless at this point. There wasn't any move he could make without either killing himself or killing Lucy and Rebecca. Though he _had_ to think of something. Desmond was a natural hero, many thanks to his ancestors, so there was no way he was going down without a plan. But it had to be made fast.

"Shaun! I don't understand. Why would you do this?" Desmond didn't have to tilt his head to know whose voice it was. He had talked to Lucy countless times in Abstergo, always pushing her for more information. Right now, she was the only person he could trust. He still wasn't even a hundred percent sure about Rebecca.

"Why did I do this, Lucy? Isn't it quite... obvious?" Shaun sniggered and pulled a rope out of his pocket with his free hand. "The Assassins are dying out. Rather quickly, I may add. It's only a matter of time before the race becomes extinct and we, Templars, myself included, _of course_, are going to create a new world under the influence of the Pieces of Eden. Just the things you would know all about, Lucy."

"I did not help Abstergo in _any wa_y, Shaun," she spat back and almost immediately, received the end of a rifle in her jaw. She fell to the ground and Desmond could hear Rebecca shout a quick string of profanities before she huddled over Lucy.

"But didn't you? Your hands are covered in the subject's blood, Lucy. You helped us with the Animus, pushed our research even further. You may have been a double agent, but truly, your work has helped our operation run faster and smoother."

Desmond groaned in pain as Shaun flipped him onto his stomach. Without haste, he grabbed Desmond's arms and pulled them back forcefully, then preceded to tie his wrists together in a tight knot. "Just so you don't pull anything funny, stupid twat," he mumbled as he tightened it as far as it would go, causing tears to well in Desmond's eyes.

"Shaun... You were like a brother to me... For seven years. How could that not have meant anything to you?" Rebecca cried out, holding Lucy protectively in her arms, who seemed to be unconscious. Slowly, Shaun got up to his feet, sighing in contentment when Desmond struggled but failed to move anywhere. He walked down the steps and over to the two girls, both of them sitting on the cold steel floors.

"Oh Rebecca, I might have liked you if you hadn't acted like you were two," he sneered, stopping just a few paces short of them. Shaun could feel the uneasiness in his men, all of them with their fingers on the triggers, but he motioned that he was fine. That these two weaklings couldn't possibly do him anymore damage than the male Assassin could.

"I saved your life, you bastard!" She shouted, her voice higher than usual. It was true that predators could smell fear in their prey's presence. In fact, Rebecca had it plastered all over her face.

"Rebecca! I didn't know you could use that kind of language. I mostly only hear _adults_ using it." Rebecca bit her lip as she yearned to scream, fight, kill or do anything to protect the people she had easily grown attached to. She loved Desmond's arrogance and the way he walked around like he owned the place. It made her smile – that his confidence had been bursting through the roof. She loved Lucy because she had been the only girl she had been able to talk to over the years, the only person she had connected with since their high school years. She had loved Shaun because of the small times he'd show her platonic affection, the way an older brother would treat a younger sister. But now, she was quickly losing everything that she ever loved.

"But back to the point, you never saved my life. It had all been _staged_, Rebecca. You do know what that means, don't you?"

Rebecca had to bite back a sob.

"I've been with the Templars since day one. Don't think you were some kind of hero or anything of the sort. You were just an involuntary_ actor_ that would seven years later, lead me to Mr. Miles over there. Gosh, Rebecca, doesn't time just _fly_ by?"

She clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth as she squeezed Lucy gently. She shook her head gradually. "You'll get what you deserve."

"Excuse me?"

"I said... You'll get what you deserve. In the end of the movies, the good guys always triumph over the bad guys. Like Batman defeating the Joker, or Superman saving the world. Spiderman saving the city from Norman Osborn in the first-"

Shaun's shrill laughter cut her off. She flinched, and everyone else in the room did as well. The historian continued to laugh as he pulled out his guy and pointed it directly at Rebecca. "I'm sorry, but this isn't exactly a movie, Rebecca," he smirked, finger loosely playing with the trigger. She cringed, holding tightly onto Lucy as she waited for her death. She would never marry, never have children, never see the end of the Templars, never attend a friend's wedding, and never get out and explore the world. The list of 'never done' piled up as high as the heavens in her mind. Not once had she tried sushi, tried skydiving, and most certainly told Lucy how she truly felt about her_. Never. _

But her death never came. Slowly, she opened one eye to stare at Shaun, who was yawning loudly.

"Why... Why didn't...?"

"Hm? Oh. You think I could kill you? After living with you for seven agonizing years, you think I would murder you just like that in cold blood? Oh Rebecca, you have so much to learn. With _so little time_," he enunciated the last sentence, and turned on his heel abruptly. Quickly, he jogged up the stairs to see Desmond exactly where he left him. Shaun smirked and smacked Desmond's thigh with his handgun lightly, causing the man to jerk away from him.

"Get up. Now," Shaun hissed and watched as Desmond gently slid his feet onto the ground and stood up. Shaking slightly, Desmond watched as Shaun turned him around and quickly began to undo the rope that bound his hands together. Sighing in relief, Desmond rubbed at his wrists, where he could see the bright red line of the sharp wire. "Move along, come on now." He probed Desmond in the back with his gun and pushed him down the stairs, making him stand before the two girls he was so eagerly trying to protect. It was happening all too fast. They would be slaughtered like sheep on a farm, their blood darkening the already impure soil. His plan was only half way complete. He needed another minute. A minute he didn't have.

"Now, have you ever used a gun before?" Shaun grinned as he came up behind Desmond and snaked his arms around his waist. Desmond immediately tensed up, his stomach lurching cruelly. The man who had betrayed them all, torn what they believed into pieces, now had his arms around his waist the way one would do to their lover.

"_Don't touch me_," Desmond growled as he looked down at Lucy and Rebecca, feeling the hatred ignite inside his chest for their captor. Heart pounding feverishly, he felt the historian's body press up against his back, lips pressed softly against his ear.

"Off with the sweater. We don't want it getting stained now, do we?" Shaun smiled softly as he put the gun in his back pocket once again. Gently, he took Desmond's hands in his own and moved them, as if he were controlling the man. "Your hands are shaking. Are you scared, Desmond?" With a swift movement, he unzipped the Assassin's sweater with his hands, to reveal a black tee shirt and forced him to toss the sweater behind them. "That's better."

"Shaun, what are you doing?"

"You sound terrified. Like a child lost in a mall, forever searching for their parents that have already left him behind."

Slowly, Shaun let go of one hand as he reached back into his pocket and pulled out the gun. "Try anything funny and I _will _make sure you die. Whether it be by my hand or my men's. Then I can just take care of the lovely ladies myself."

Desmond could feel his breathing rate increase as he watched Shaun take his hand once again. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as Shaun forced him to take the cold metal gun in his hands. Swallowing loudly, he was quickly assembling a plan in his head. This was his only chance to knock Shaun down. Just as he was about to jab his elbow back, Shaun kissed his neck softly, freezing him in place. "You're a cold blooded murderer, Desmond," he mumbled as he brushed his lips against his shoulder blade.

"I have _never_ killed a man in my life," Desmond could feel that common sense was getting harder to maintain with each second passing by. Shaun's grip on his hands firmed and he was wound so tightly around the Assassin, that Desmond couldn't budge an inch. Now, if he even tried to make a move, it wouldn't do anything. He was cornered, once again. This man had been planning for several years, while Desmond had been planning for five minutes.

"Well, consider today to be your lucky day."

"Shaun..." Rebecca pleaded, a single tear falling from her watery eyes.

"Goodnight, Rebecca. Sleep tight."

Shaun's finger over Desmond's caused the Assassin to pull the trigger, a deafening but short _bang!_ screeched through the room.

"_No!"_ Desmond shouted as he watched the body fall, blood instantly pooling around her head. Eyes closed, she lay in a bloody mess, mouth slightly askew. Everyone in the room tensed as they regarded the scene in front of them - the small, blood soaked young lady with a bullet between her closed eyes. Desmond had to remind himself that Lucy was still alive, that he still had a reason to fight back. Although, looking at her, she was lying the exact way Rebecca was – heart as still as a photograph.

"You _bastard!_" Desmond shouted and immediately twisted out of Shaun's arms. The second he pulled away, he remembered something. If he were to move, Shaun promised him that he'd be dead in a matter of milliseconds.

Before he knew it, a trigger happy guard let loose, firing a whole round.

He had failed. It had been inevitable.

Crouching down, he listened to the silence of what must have been his afterlife. Slowly, he opened his eyes to find himself exactly where he had been before he died.

"For fuck's sake, Ted! Can you get a single shot on target?" Shaun shouted, his voice rising with anger. "You stupid, bloody git! If Desmond had done one ounce of damage, you would have been fed to the fucking dogs!" He bellowed, grasping the gun tight in his hand. So Desmond hadn't died – the guard had just missed. Furiously, Shaun ran up to the guard and began an endless shout of profanities, most of them threatening to terminate his line on the squad. Ted apologised quickly and handed him something that Desmond couldn't see. Shaun sighed as held it cautiously in his hand, a smirk slowly appearing on his flushed face. All of a sudden, Shaun's eyes were on him.

"Desmond... What did I tell you about trying to screw me over?" And with those words, he threateningly made his way over to the Assassin, barbed wire in hand.


End file.
